Two Colors

. They say that inspiration shouldn't be stopped. It should revolve around our being like the Earth around the sun. It should exert its gravitational pull on us according to Mr. Newton's model and just as Freud commanded dreams. Inspiration, so beautifully named – Inspiration. It would fit the name of a cheap wine, alongside "Senior's Tears" and "Satan's Sperm." I can already see myself sitting in front of a blank sheet of paper, getting drunk on its orange reflection. Why orange? I'll answer. Anything with too much methanol causes colors to sulk, so it's orange because it's not pink. "Closed because it's inactive"; she can't answer that either.

So, as I sit here, going from white to orange, it seems to me I'll go a step further and reach one of the two ends of the visible light spectrum. I'll tint it a bit -> red.

***

Siiiiiiiiiiiiiii, piss off! – Staring at the rebellious companion of my moments of solitude, I urged him to finally bring me some solace. Wow, I rhyme better when I'm drunk! I wanted to hit him, but that's so stupid, you don't hit friends. I'll beat him up another time, if I don't find a lonely soul today. Or one that lonely. What difference does it make, my friend is gone… he won't get up today. – Siiiiiiiiiii, piss off! Because I'll ask my friend to bring me another beer! Then you'll ask me to come over here and help you confess to Poseidon! And? And what will happen? PILL!!! – I was about to slit his zipper… – you know I don't like drinking when I'm not full! – I gave him one last chance and played for mercy. He took pity. Phew… Ugh… Ugh? If you're talking about pissing, you won't read it? Are you disgusted? After all, that's the other side of the coin of human nature. But of course, I also prefer it when my rabbit's reflexes shine from the first one! Who likes to run to the toilet when they're at the cinema, or the commercial break was five minutes ago, and they're about to kill another rascal? Oh? And here it is – pee! PEE! It must be a knot in your stomach; in any case, your soul rebels and it's too heavy to bear the burden. You clench your thighs, bend double, or spread your legs as wide as the horizon. The driver says – "Five more minutes until the stop" – (toilet closed, because who likes messing around in pee?) – and after half an hour you emerge pale, drenched in sweat, and with a stomach ache. Then your friend refuses, as nature has commanded (from time to time), to drop down and aim for Poseidon's ear. And so you piss down the walls, or at least on the seat. You already know why everything in the men's restroom (sometimes including the ceiling) is always splattered. But we're considering a different case here.

1. It's late evening or early morning. "Man is the measure of all things," as Protagoras used to say, so take your pick, Reader.

2. The location is a disco or a nightclub. In either case, a strip club.

3. You didn't drink cola or Tymbark juice, only liquid sugar or hops.

4. Reality has already changed its coordinates.

5. The friend before you has a hangover and can no longer "stand," much less "dance."

In short – TRAGEDY!!!!!

*** But don't worry, things can always get more fun! ***

And that's what happened that evening.

Finally, I pressed the "Push" button and heard the sound of a paradise waterfall. Poseidon had answered my prayers. A moment later, I realized that my sins had also dripped in a small stain onto my shirt. In any case, maybe I'll still manage to tuck a coin into Lola's buttocks before she finishes dancing, because I never thought to call them panties. Satisfied with my confession, I left the claustrophobic cubicle and staggered to the sink. My vision was so fun to watch. When I went up, he went up too, but somehow later, zigzagging, and when I went down, he glided. In any case, cold water doused my hands (there was no warm water, the tap was turned off) and, incidentally, my shirt. I didn't touch the soap because when I'd come in for the fifth time, some smug teenager had mixed his tadpoles in. He was repulsive, off-putting, and at the same time, an interesting entity, like a cat stretched out the length of a truck tread on the asphalt. Later, when I decided to invite my friends to play "operation" (remember, don't touch the edges... BZZZZZZZZZZZ) on his face, I learned from them that it was their idea. They said they'd buy him a drink if he did it (he didn't have ID, and his "girlfriend" had dumped him today and he wanted to get drunk). The idiot did it, it was recorded on a cell phone camera (the third eye of justice! How many politicians have been caught because of this, and how many teachers have been lectured!), and they didn't buy him a drink, they just threatened him that if he didn't pay, he'd show it to the dive owner. The boy got scared, gave him his money back, the video was "deleted," and it seemed like everything ended well. That's right, damn it.

"What are you doing here, you loser?" I noticed the boy in the mirror, leaning against the confessional door. He had his hand in his pocket and was moving it vigorously. "Isn't that enough?

" "You idiot, you don't understand. I'm suffering, don't you understand?" he looked at me. I thought I was about to jump through the mirror. He had such a hideously terrifying face – tiny green eyes, chubby red cheeks (either from rage or pleasure, I didn't know then), sticking out ears and a knocked-out front tooth, bald and seemingly from another dimension – in a few words, to sum it up; like a side effect of radioactive fallout from Chernobyl.

"I understand, you're suffering, and I'm getting dry. Fuck... I spilled it.

" "I AM SUFFERING!! AND YOU DIDN'T BUY ME A DAMN BEER!!!

" "Bideak, what is this n-eee?" I shook my head to put on the record (obviously, I was stoned on the rafting trip). "Ugh! Was she a woman?"

"Beautiful." "They'll probably smile at this point, or a tooth will pop out from under her upper lip." "She had such a beautiful smile... and that mole on her cheek... her look, the way she moved. Her back, her hands...

" "What was her name?" I politely wanted to continue the conversation. I was surprised he hadn't mentioned the hardness of her nipples, or at least the size of her ass. There was no need to rush. Lola had already finished her performance. I heard something like applause. Besides, it was hard to rip a whole piece of paper towel out of the "automatic" dispenser. I could have started a conversation.

"I don't know." At that moment, his hand stopped trembling in his pocket. But no smile appeared on his face. I don't think anything did, I don't know. I focused on my pocket. I was surprised and terrified. I think I wanted to run away...

" "Very original, I won't tell." I slowly took a step toward the exit.

"Don't joke! I really loved her!" Something unspeakable had happened. He pulled his hand out of his pocket, and with it came the black figure of a Beretta.

"Ugh... you have a big pocket." I panicked, I wanted to run... He aimed it at me dispassionately. Thank the supernatural forces watching over the world, thanks to which I didn't have a hangover this morning—I puked on the floor. And my shirt ripped off too. A moment later, as soon as I caught my breath, I felt my temples throbbing. I put my hand to my forehead—"Kill me. Or let me f- ... My mind immediately sobered, but my head was still buzzing and my vision was unstable. The boy backed away from me. On the way, he stepped on the colorful mosaic of my dinner, and he leaned against the confessional door again.

"Thanks. Even though you tried to kill me, you saved my life." He showed no reaction to my words. He contemplated the clear stream flowing from one of the stalls. "Come on, I'll buy you that drink. Or if you want, I'll pay you to smell a woman, just put that gun down." I couldn't move from the sink. I stood glued to it with my back.

*** Silence *** only the pounding in my temples. A moment later, music came from behind the door, irritating me beyond all measure. I just wanted to collapse on my comfortable bed and let Morpheus grope me.

*** My world changed ***

and my shirt was treated to another chemical concoction.

***Loot!!!***

I don't know what came first, the boy's brains or the boy's blood. I was almost rooted in the unevenly laid toilet tiles when someone burst into the toilet, laughing. I vaguely recognized a gummy bear (that's what I call people with gel in their hair, right, it's funny! Oh, how I managed! Heh!) and a girl with a mole on her cheek. I guess they too had caught the fruit-growing bug and decided to root themselves. (I almost forgot – that girl was really pretty. Of course, it's Lola!)

"I see you all ended up in the sobering-up room too." "I was trying to be funny. I had a headache. They ran away.

I left the toilet. Some woman gasped, the music stopped. About three goons ran up to me, but they decided not to touch me. They surrounded me and ordered me to the exit. Panic. Everyone started running. Do you know how ridiculous a stripper's buttocks look in the cold? Don't you know? I know – they give you goosebumps.

***I woke up*** in the city sobering up cell. I fell out of bed, because calling it a controlled descent would be blasphemy, and I ran to the steel door. In a frenzy, I started banging and yelling for water. And they allowed me to take a bath. First of all – change my shirt.

***Now I'm standing in a purple suit*** – I didn't have a black one – at the funeral of the most infatuated hangover cure in the world. I feel good now, physically, but mentally – I'm devastated. It's terrible what love does to people. I don't drink anymore. NEVER!

***I'm watching the red sunset***

But don't worry, it can always be happier!

Silence.

My world has changed.

Bang!!!

I woke up.

Now I'm standing in a purple suit.

I'm watching the red sunset .

Immersed in the limits of the white light spectrum…